


not sorry i met you (not sorry it's over)

by AugustaByron



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Crack, Engagement, F/M, Gen, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7264456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustaByron/pseuds/AugustaByron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tater adds, “So, that Parson, what a lucky man! Have you seen pictures of the ring? You know her, yes? She went to your school?” </p><p>“Wait,” Jack says. “What?” </p><p>Kent Parson and Camilla Collins get engaged. Jack is not freaking out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not sorry i met you (not sorry it's over)

**Author's Note:**

> This Jack Zimmermann is drawn from the ridiculous jealous asshole of yesteryear we know and love, and not as much from the beautiful soul who Skypes his boyfriend every night. 
> 
> Warnings for: Facetious mentions of Jack's substance abuse issues. 
> 
> Title from Stars' "Your Ex-Lover Is Dead." 
> 
> Check, Please belongs to Ngozi Ukazu.

Jack has twenty unread text messages and three missed calls when he gets out of his pre-convention strategy meeting with PR. He frowns down at his phone. One of the missed calls is from Bitty, two are from Shitty. Nearly all of the messages seem like they're from the group chat. It's probably not an emergency, then.

Although, worryingly, one of the messages that isn't from the group chat is from Jack's mother. It just says _Call me, dear!_

The group chat is more along the lines of Ransom and Holster saying _haha_ and _does it smart, Zimmermann?_ So that's pretty normal.

“Mad, Zimmboni?” Tater appears out of nowhere, probably on the way to his own PR meeting, to slap Jack on the back. “PR tell you about bachelor auction for charity? Don't worry, you will go for lots! Maybe your girl can come bid on you, finally meet team.”

“No,” Jack says, then, “Wait, what?”

“Never mind,” Tater says, and before Jack can ask more, he adds, “So, that Parson, what a lucky man! Have you seen pictures of the ring? You know her, yes? She went to your school?”

“Wait,” Jack says. “What?”

 

Parse is engaged to Camilla Collins.

“You are not engaged to my ex-girlfriend,” Jack says when Kent picks up the phone.

“So you don't want a save the date card,” Kent surmises. “Seriously, this is what makes you call? How did you get my new number, you freak?”

Jack wants to tear out his own hair. Leave it to Parse to pull a stunt like this. “How do you even know her?”

“Well, I actually met her at that party of yours, a few years back,” Kent says. He sounds media-perfect. Jack wants to punch him in the face, push him off balance, something to get a little honesty out of him. “And then when I was at one of her competitions we recognized each other—well, who could forget a girl like that, am I right?--and we hit it off. It's been like a year, dude.”

“Are you fucking with me?” It's got to be asked. Kent used to pull stupid shit all the time when they were kids, pranks, some annoying, most actually pretty good. Of course, Jack was on the other side, planning and executing with Kent, back then.

“Do you really think a rock that size is a joke? You have seen the rock, right? Cammy says it's super tacky, I think she's into it.” Kent sounds smug.

Jack has seen the ring, now. He called Lardo and asked her to email him the Deadspin article about Parse's engagement. It's full of pictures of Kent and Camilla, Kent meekly carrying her gear bag at tennis competitions, Camilla always looking perfect and crisp.

The diamond is very big.

“Of course she likes tacky,” Jack hisses. Nobody ever makes him feel this way, slightly unhinged, so, so fucking mad, except for Parse. Deep down, some small part of him has missed it. “She's marrying you, isn't she?”

He hangs up the phone, done with this conversation. For a minute he feels at peace, and then his phone rings: Parse.

“Hurtful,” Parse says, clearly amused, “deeply hurtful.” And then he hangs up on Jack.

 

“Well, honey,” Bitty says. “I don't think that he's marrying Camilla just to annoy you.”

Nobody is on Jack's side. Shitty just laughed at him. Holster and Ransom are even worse. Lardo is refusing to pick up the phone. At least he can go home to Bitty, who can't run out of the apartment forever and will eventually have to talk about this.

“You're supposed to hate Parse,” Jack points out.

“Hate is such a strong word,” Bitty demurs, but he doesn't actually deny it. “Anyway, I don't think Camilla would do anything like that. She was always so busy. And now she's a professional tennis star! When would she have time to plan something like a spite engagement?”

“Bitty. You're brilliant,” Jack realizes.

He'll just call Camilla.

 

“Yo,” Kent says. Jack frowns down at his phone.

“I thought this was Camilla's number.”

“Yeah, it is, she's in the shower and I saw that someone named Idiot Boy and then a peach emoji and a hundred and two little fires was calling,” Kent says. Jack is pretty sure only half of that sentence was in English. “So I decided to pick up.”

“I wanted to talk to Camilla.” Jack will need a new plan, now. She'll be wise to this one.

“Why, want to find out what it's like to party with Parson?” There is a leer in Kent's voice. Jack can fucking hear it.

Jack sputters, caught off guard. “We don't need to gossip about you, you and I used to fuck, too!”

“Dude, has your technique not improved at all since we were seventeen? Because that's really sad. I once literally tried so hard to deepthroat you that I threw up a little, don't you remember?”

Jack has been trying to forget for years. That scarred him worse than the pill addiction.

“Anyway,” Kent continues blithely, while Jack's balls try to crawl back inside his body at the memory, “I know that she must have improved your game a little, she's got this purple thing—you know the thing--”

Jack does know the purple thing. He has some very rosy memories of the purple thing, of Camilla stretched out over his back and her powerful thighs working it into him, her voice crooning, “Good, good boy,” her long nails scratching just so on the back of his neck, his hands and knees braced on her soft bed.

“Well, she's great, is what I'm saying, there was some definite practice involved, so maybe I should be thanking you,” Kent finishes. Jack wants to die.

“I hate everything about you,” Jack says, and then feels compelled to add, “Except your hockey. That game winner at Worlds was a beaut.”

“Is that a fucking crack about how we got swept in the playoffs? Our goalie was injured, fuckstick,” Kent snaps, pissy, and then audibly breathes, deep and deliberate. Jack thinks he must be counting to ten. “Thank you, Zimms, I almost cried over you scoring a goal against the Panthers using your ass. That was pure glory.”

Jack makes a face. Shitty somehow got his hand on a video of the exact moment that the puck bounced off of Jack's ass and into the goal, and then slowed it down. He sends it to the group chat every Monday without fail.

“Anyway, do you want to come to the engagement party or what? Bring your boyfriend. I like him better than you. He was nice to me that time we met, and you're kind of an asshole,” Parse says. “It's gonna be on a boat.”

“Well,” Jack says. Maybe he can talk some sense into Camilla there. “If it's on a boat.”

 

“Sweetie,” Bitty hisses at Jack as they walk onto the yacht. “You are going to be polite, aren't you?”

“You hate Parse,” Jack observes. Bitty hasn't actually admitted it, but Jack knows.

The yacht is docked, beautifully decorated in blues and whites. There are servers with trays of champagne flutes. Bitty snags two right off the bat.

“I love weddings,” Bitty says. He tosses back the contents of one champagne flute and starts sipping on the next one.

“But you hate Parse,” Jack says, and Bitty glares at him.

“Let's go find Lardo,” he says.

Jack doesn't know why Lardo is here, unless she and Camilla were a lot closer than he knew. But he'll be grateful for some more teammates.

Bitty, using his superpower of never being uncomfortable at parties, navigates them through three decks of boats crowded with professional athletes, Samwell University students past and present, and the army of blond Parson cousins. Eventually they end up on the open deck at the bow of the ship, where Lardo is chatting with Camilla and Parse, a few others milling around in small groups.

Jack takes in the scene: Parse has his arm around Camilla's waist, loose and easy. Camilla is wearing a floral sundress and enormous sunglasses, her blond hair shining the late summer sun. Lardo is listening to Parse talk, nodding a little. When he and Bitty get a little closer, Jack can hear what Parse is saying.

“--it's just really annoying in terms of media recognition. And I've already had some heat from the community, which always feels so much worse, you know? There's some people saying I shouldn't even bother to come out, since I'm marrying a woman. But, like, can you blame me? I put some solid effort into tricking this one into matrimony.” Parse leans down and kisses Camilla on the cheek. She tilts her face up to accept it.

“Don't let the haters get you down, bro,” Lardo tells Kent solemnly. “I've got your back. Bi solidarity.”

“I told him to just do it over Twitter, but no,” Camilla says, dry. Jack gets a sensory flashback— _good, good boy—_ and blushes bright red. “Kent Parson has to have an interview in _Out_. He has to be special.”

“I'm very special,” Parse says, his thumb sweeping gently up and down Camilla's waist. Jack feels like a voyeur for a second, wants to leave, to jump off the boat or something, and then Kent notices him standing there. “Zimms! Hey!”

“Hey,” Jack says back. He and Bitty join the little circle. Lardo nods at him, and Camilla leans over to kiss Jack on the cheek in a wave of delicate perfume.

“Hi. Bittle, right?” Kent says, offering a hand to Bitty. “Glad you guys could make it. Did you try the food yet? The crab cakes are off the hook.”

“You're so embarrassing,” Camilla says, but the way she leans into Kent, the little smile on her lips, turns her words fond. Jack can't stop staring at where they're joined together. He doesn't like the ugly well of feelings in his gut at the sight. He grips Bitty's hand harder instead of saying anything.

Jack tunes in, trying to figure out where the conversation's gone. Bitty's saying something about traffic. Lardo is agreeing with him, Camilla nodding along, and Kent--

Kent is looking at Jack, quizzical, brow furrowed.

“Hey, Bittle, I'm going to borrow your arm candy for a minute,” Parse says, and grabs Jack's arm. He tows Jack over to a quieter corner, and says, grim, “Okay, what's wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Jack says, knee-jerk. Kent just stares at him until Jack relents with, “You're really marrying Camilla?”

“Oh my god,” Parse says, something dawning on his face, “this is your possessive shithead routine!”

Jack frowns. “I do not have a possessive shithead routine.”

“You so do,” Kent says. He starts ticking things off on his fingers. “That time in Juniors when I made out with Lisa Reynolds, that week where they had me centering second line instead of on your wing, literally any time I mentioned George Clooney--”

“Fine,” Jack relents. “It's weird for me.”

“Because we're looking somewhere other than you,” Kent says, softening. “Zimms. You headcase.”

Jack isn't sure that's quite it—he never expected the same level of attention from Camilla, who always made it clear that she had better things to do. But yeah, okay. It's a little weird that Kent's getting married. Jack loves Bitty in ways he never thought possible, so much that it scares him sometimes. But, still. It's strange.

“What's Lardo doing here?” Jack asks, desperate for a change in topic.

“She and Cammy used to have a thing,” Kent says cheerfully. “And Cammy said if I got to invite an ex, she got to invite an ex.”

While Jack processes that—has everyone slept with everyone? Is Bitty going to casually mention making out with Shitty one of these days?--Kent's attention is caught by Camilla's laugh. He's looking away, over to where she's standing, his eyes bright. Jack hasn't seen Kent look that happy since they were eighteen, out by the lake that last summer.

“I am happy for you, Kenny,” Jack says. Kent looks back at him and beams. Jack is startled to notice the beginnings of lines at the corners of his eyes.

“I know, Zimms. You're just a dickbag when you're confused,” Parse says. “Plus you're probably bitter that Camilla's trading up. It's okay, I get it.”

“Don't push it,” Jack warns Parse, who laughs and throws his arm over Jack's shoulder. He used to do that shit when they were kids, and it was just as hilarious then. Parse still can't reach that high without straining.

“Cammy's trying to convince your boyfriend to do our wedding cake, something about how she's going to leave me for him if he ever decides he likes women? Just for baking access, she says, I can still carry her gear and stuff. Do you want to come, too, or is it just going to be him?” Kent asks as they walk back over to the party.

“Does your entire family still hate me?” Jack asks. Parse's wedding is bound to be a disaster, but maybe Camilla's influence will mitigate some of the chaos.

“Oh, yeah, no way around that,” Kent says, grinning. “But you should come anyway. You can always sit on Cammy's side of the aisle.”

That might actually work, Jack muses.

The quiet corner has gotten more crowded. Jack thinks he sees Kent's brothers in the maelstrom of the extended Parson clan, surrounding Lardo and apparently hanging on her every word. He wonders if he should go investigate or not. Probably not, Jack decides, as he and Kent rejoin Camilla and Bitty.

“Call me,” Camilla says to Bitty. She's punching something into his phone. “We'll talk flavors. I am so serious about this, I still dream about that mixed berry pie of yours.”

“We should probably go say hi to people,” Kent says, switching easily from Jack to Camilla, already wrapping around her. His arm fits better on her shoulders, Jack notices. He doesn't have to stretch. And he almost looks tall next to her, which must be a nice change for him.

“Make the rounds,” Camilla agrees. She hands Bitty back his phone and smiles at them. “It's nice to see you, Jack.”

“You don't have to marry this idiot, you know,” Jack tries. His heart's not in it, though. “If he's holding you hostage just blink twice.”

Camilla laughs at him. She pats his arm consolingly and says, “Oh, Jack. Never change.”

Bitty waits exactly as long as it takes for Camilla and Kent to get out of earshot before he says, silky, a bit dangerous, “Babe, why has Camilla Collins eaten my pie? I've never really met her before today.”

Jack blushes and looks around to see if he'll be able to get out of this one. Lardo is not coming to save him. “When Camilla and I were—you know. We came downstairs and there were some leftovers. She told me that if you were straight she'd dump me for you.” Then she dumped him a week later anyway.

“I am going to charge Kent Parson so much money to bake his wedding cake,” Bitty decides, the fire in his eyes not entirely from champagne. Jack's heart feels like it's going to grow so big it'll burst out of his chest.

“Do you want to marry me?” he asks. Bitty freezes.

“Jack Zimmermann, if that was a proposal you are in so much trouble,” Bitty says. “I expect romance! Roses! At least not to be at someone else's engagement party.”

“It wasn't,” Jack lies. Roses. He can do that. “I was just checking. Do you want to marry me someday?”

“Oh, honey,” Bitty breathes. He goes up on his tiptoes to kiss Jack softly on the mouth. “Of course I'm going to marry you. You need me. You didn't even know who Beyoncé was before we got together.”

Jack watches Kent and Camilla, two blond heads, two loud laughs, two people that used to be Jack's, as much as they wanted to be.

“Our wedding is going to kick their wedding's ass,” Jack tells Bitty.

“Of course it will,” Bitty agrees, a little bloodthirsty. “You're just as pretty as Camilla, and Parson is a mess. We can do so much better.”

Bitty is so fucking perfect.

Jack's got to start looking for rings.

 


End file.
